Greylock's Pearl
by alexxlii
Summary: I'm not finished with the story yet, and this is only the beginning, where I've only set the characters and the base of the plot, so no suspense or action has taken place. This isn't at all related to Pirates of the Caribbean actually, but it takes some ideas from the movie. I haven't edited it yet, so its really bad; I'll take time to edit it in the future.


_Long long ago, in a time of the earliest hominum settlers, in the time where the land had barely fabricated to what it is today, in the time where the seas still raged with magic and mystery, a magical dwelling of the ocean was well known: merfolk. On the outside, these beautiful creatures appeared to be a blessing form heaven, but their insides inhabited a cold, shriveling, dark abyss. Greed, hunger, bloodthirst. Things that drove the merfolk to start hunting down hominum. Disappearances were often, from the first men that set foot on land to the hominum sailors today. It was mythed that these merfolk would take these hominum down to the bottom of the ocean, where they feast on their flesh and blood._

 _And so, the first warriors came to be. Some parts of the world thought they were pirates. Others thought they were vikings. Of course, there were both pirates and vikings in the world and both were known by mortals, but not them. These warriors stayed hidden from the moment they were born, but rumors still wound its way across the world. These dauntless, fierce warriors, due to their rumors, dubbed themselves crusaders and swore to protect the hominum from the harm of merfolk. They lived in lands hidden from hominum sight, as many lands of magical beings were. These strange lands that hominum were oblivious too were called epithymia. Many epithymia islands and stretches of earth dotted the world, but one by one, each were claimed—by the celts, the satyrs, the minotaurs, the centaurs, the nymphs, the dyrads, the dragons, the elves, the faeries, the list goes on. The crusaders managed to capture a few epithymia, and there they took fugitive. The number of crusaders grew and grew, until names started to be well known and battles broke out between them. Thus, the crusaders split into clans._

 _A few of the clans grew tired of protecting hominum in secret without any rewards in return. They wanted riches. Thus, they allied themselves with the merfolk. One of these clans was the Turrents, the Greylocks' mortal enemy. They stole and attacked hominum villages for the merfolk, and in return, they received treasures of gold, silver, crystal, or anything that had value in their eyes. They would frame the attacks on the Greylocks, leaving flags and charms around with the Greylock emblem. Hominum began to fear these attacks that came on as word spread; they thought there were evil pirates and viking responsible for it. They hung anyone that aroused suspicion and beheaded anyone that got themselves involved in piracy._

 _What the hominum did not know was what power merfolk possessed. It was a strange kind of magic; a magic that could not be used by a being itself but could only be harnessed when conveyed into an object. The merfolk were ignorant to this, of course, all except for one wise mermaid. This mermaid, who went by the name of Aarahia, stole seven pieces of treasure from the hominum and gave them the power of immortality. But it was just then when the mermaid was about to take the power, she was slayed by one of the crusaders._

 _This crusader was one of the very first warriors that came to be, the well known Godric Greylock. Greylock took the seven treasures and hid them away from other greedy crusaders and merfolk. Secretively, only known by his own clan, he constructed himself a key that would reveal the hiding spots of these treasures. He mapped out three of the treasures, and made a compass that would lead to the other four. This key became known as Godric Greylock's medallion, and the three pieces he created became known as the Godric's Gold. Greylock inserted a bit of merfolk magic into his compass, making sure that the compass would only work if all three pieces of Godric's Gold were in his territory; either on his ship, or in Greylock Harbor. Despite the efforts to hide his pieces, the word got out to the Turrents. Then came a series of bloodthirsty battles between these two clans, and other allies that made the regrettable decision to take part. Soon, it became a one on one battle between the infamous Izkar Gorf, captain of the Turrent, and Godric Greylock. They fought day and night on and on for a month without rest, without food, without water. Many crusaders came to the conclusion that this was an unfair battle, for Greylock was many centuries older than Gorf, which would be an indication that Greylock was much weaker. Gorf struck Greylock down at last, and was about to seize the three pieces when the old ship they were on sank, drowning the both of them._

 _Unfortunately, the compass was later uncovered by the Turrents. However, they failed to realize that the compass ceased to work when it was in the wrong hands, thus they spent many years following a broken compass and ending up nowhere near the medallion._

 _Now, the problem began, when centuries later, the medallion was uncovered by the Greylock Pearl, a ship of the Greylock clan. Although, to Evie, this happened only two days ago, so two days ago we shall start at._

"Get up, yer scalllywag!" Someone hollered outside the door. Evlynne Sparrow sat up with a jolt. Milky dawn light filtered through her broken window, casting weak rays over her closet-sized cabin.

A fist pounded on her door. "Hurry it up, Captain needs ya!"

Evie grunted in reply and listened as the footsteps thundered away. Why would the captain be needing her at this time? The sun was barely up, and only a few people were rushing around the deck. But Captain's orders were Captain's orders. She slipped into her stained hunting vest and her weatherbeaten leather jacket that had been reduced to bloody rags over the years, then tightened her weapons belt. Grabbing her scallywag hat, she kicked open the splintered door and was about to head out when she thought better of it and grabbed her cutlass, her axe and a few daggers just in case. As a crusader, she knew all too well about being cautious.

She clomped down the wooden passage of the upper berth as the ship swayed, and climbed up the ladder at the end. With a great heave, she pushed open the trapdoor, letting light into the dark corridor.

Evie stepped out into the morning gloom gratefully as a slight breeze ruffled her curls and rattled the thin chains in her hair. Greylock's Pearl was gently rocking across the vast ocean. The sails were swinging around madly, trying to catch a good wind. The helm was occupied by Evan Ashring, a burly, not to mention hairy, man with arms the size of Evie's legs. She looked up at the crow's nest, which, to her disdain, held the outline of Jeremy Nystrom. She had hoped that she could've gotten a run up in the crow's nest today. She loved being up there with the thrill of dizzying heights and ocean as far as she could see. But back to business.

The captain of the Greylock's Pearl sat atop a few barrels of rum, deeply contemplating something held in his hand. It glinted a bright gold when it reflected off of the sunlight, catching her eye. Captain Eddie Boot nodded in greeting as she approached him and gestured for her to sit. Evie sat down on the barrel beside Eddie and refilled her empty flask of rum. Curious about the reason why Captain Boot would want to have her woken at barely dawn, she leaned in as he began to speak.

"Now, when I show you this, I want you to speak of it to no one, except for Evan or Rafael, as they already know. Do I have your word?"

Evie raised her eyebrows, surprised of how grim Eddie seemed; he was usually found in a mellow and humorous mood. She nodded warily, a bit bemused. Eddie opened the palm of his hand, revealing the object he was looking at earlier. She let out a high pitched scream and fell off her barrel. The few crusaders on deck all turned their heads in her direction.

"You alright there?" Asked her crewmate, Stanley Chiust, who was with two more people working on the sails not far form them. Evie gave him a nervous smile and an apology to the captain. As she straightened up, millions of thoughts and emotions swam about in her head that she wanted to go straight back to her cabin and have a nice nap. It was so overwhelming that she felt dizzy. How did it get there? How did Eddie find it? When was this? Why could she not tell anyone? Why hadn't the merfolk stolen it? Feeling confused, excited, fearful and relieved, she sat back down, not knowing which thought to focus on. Shaking her head, she set her eyes on Greylock's Medallion clutched in Eddie's hand. It was a bronze-gold color rusted around the edges. The medallion depicted the Greylock emblem: great foaming waves forming two swords clashing together. It looked like a coin, except much bigger and thicker.

"Not a word, savvy?" Eddie warned. "Found this precious last night. Great big storm, half of the crew had to stay up here to help. Was at the stern when a huge wave crashed over, almost taking me overboard. Luckily, it instead took a merman onboard. The merman, which later Evan, Rafael and I found out, was wearing this around his neck. Asked him where he got it, and he said it was an ancient merfolk heirloom and it had been passed on to him. He told us that it was rumored among the merfolk that this piece was a clue that could lead them to Aarahia's seven treasures. You've heard the merfolk legend, aye? Well of course, we crusaders bloody knew what this was. Greylock's Medallion! Yes, Evlynne, I know it is amazing news but I don't want to share it with the rest of the crew just yet. Don't want to get them worked up about nothing. We don't have the map yet, so all this is to us right now is a piece of junk. But another reason is that when we weren't looking, the devil merman slipped back into the water and escaped—Which is why, right now, we're most likely being chased by hoards of merfolk. If we stole their precious heirloom and ancient bearing of Aarahia's, they're probably not going to let us get away easily."

"Then thats even more of a reason to tell the crew!" Evie finally burst out, having being interrupted multiple times. "We're being _chased._ Hunted down. If we pull on speed right now, people are going to want to know why!" She whisper shouted, not wanting to perk up unwanted ears.

"When has the crew ever cared about _why_?" Eddie retorted.

"Our crew has the right to know! They work for you, under your command. They trust you with everything, so can't you trust them in return?" Evie shot back.

"This is not about trust, this is about the fact that they are going to be severely disappointed—arguments are going to break out about what to do; the crew will be thrown into chaos!"

"And that will still be the case when the merfolk have caught up to us. Think about it. You need everyone's help. Every brain counts. This is a matter of trust. You have to trust your crew to trust your decisions."

"Lets just assume I tell them-"

"Oh, you will."

"Well, say I let them in-"

"You do let them in."

"You're not going to give up are you?"

Evie's gaze bore into Eddie's. After a long, imploring look, Eddie finally gave in and threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine. Go get a knock on the bell. Happy?"

Evie smiled smugly.

The wind was starting to pick up now, causing the ship to rock harder. Evie wobbled her way to the foremast, where she grabbed onto a thick rope protruding from a large bronze bell. Wishing she had earplugs, she took a deep breath and swung the bell with all her might. The bell gave a huge vibration that shook Evie's bones, but it was nothing compared to the sound, which she was sure could be heard from a mile away. One ring. Invasion alarm. Two rings. Storm warning. Three rings. Leaving dock. Four rings. Wake up bell. Finally, five rings. Upper crew meeting signal. As soon as the sound died down and her ears stopped splitting open, she heard a racket from below as her crew-mates thudded down the berth and jabbered to one another.

The Headquarters were soon full of the upper crew, with the Captain sitting at the head of the table. The Headquarters were used only for meetings— with the Navigation Room for upper crew meetings and the Commission Quarters for whole crew meetings. Avery Lebraunge, a muscular girl with dark dreadlocks, began snoring on Evie's shoulder as Eddie called for silence.

"Evie, wake our dear friend Avery please," Eddie looked on, bored. Evie snatched the flask on Avery's belt and dumped its contents on Avery. When Avery awoke and finished cursing at Evie, Eddie recounted the story as he had told her, but left out only a few details. There was an obstinate silence as Eddie finished. It seemed that no one had believed him, or they were just too caught up with their own emotions. Vexed, he placed the renowned medallion upon the wooden table. There was another moment of silence followed by this action, where Evie believed many of the crew were registering the strange object on the table. Then madness broke out. A few people yelled out at the sight of it in excitement, many hands reached forward to grab it, others stared at the medallion in disbelief and pelted Eddie with questions that he held up his hand to. As the frolic died down, a skinny man with a severed finger called Berthen Hartnip spoke up. "I don' get what the big deal is. Jus' hand 'em the Medallion, it was worthless ter us anyways. We on'y keep it now jus' for legacy, but there's really no point in that. We ain't got no map. They ain't got no map, its no danger. They only gonna find four of 'em. Greylock wasn' that great of a man to risk all our lives for." he said with a shrug. The tip of Evie's blade met Berthen's neck before she could comprehend what she was doing. How dare he say Godric Greylock "wasn't that great of a man" on his own ship? Greylock had united four clans into one after the great battle. He had risked his own life to save his crew. How were those not great deeds? Morris Meredith, the woman standing on one side of Berthen gave him a punch while Jeremy Nystrom, on his other side, jostled him. Evie gave him a look of such intense fury that he lapsed into silence and tried to hide behind his hat. Just for good measure, she gave him a sharp sharp prod in the neck before lowering her cutlass, emitting a tiny bead of blood.

"Maybe we could go over what we have so far again. See if we can find the map. If we do we'll be ahead of them" Jamiah Stockings piped up.

"We've gone over it how many times already? Theres nothin' useful in that filthy book, we've searched the whole bay for the map, but no, nothin'!" Said an annoyed Berthern. "All thats useful to know is that Gorf beheaded Greylock. The Turrents say it was a magnificent sight; Greylock's head and neck flew long and overboard. Then Greylock's neckless body crumpled, all bloody. Gorf was victorious until he found out that the Medallion flew out with the head and the neck. Ordered his crew to swim down and search for it, but no luck. All we get from this story is that the map sunk _somewhere around Europe._ "

"The map could've washed away. It was centuries ago. For all we know, it may be on the other side of the earth," Jamiah replied.

"Exactly," Evie interjected, "for all we know, it may be on the other side of the earth. But for all we know, it may be at the bottom of the ocean. For all we know, it may be in the hands of the merfolk. For all we know, the Turrents may have their hands on the map already." She burst out. Murmurs carried across the room as people started to contemplate this. Out of everyone on deck, she was one of the few that had brains. Or rather, used them. "I say we go down for the run. I mean, we have to go somewhere no matter what our motives are, because we're likely being chased by the merfolk."

Murmurs wound around the table at the mention of merfolk on their trail.

"Bloody hell, the merfolk are the fastest and strongest swimmers of the ocean," said Evan. "Even if they ain't know where we are and where we're heading, they'll run into us sometime, and that gonna be bad, mate. They're bloodthirsty fighters, and if they brought enough of 'em, which they probably did to chase after their heirloom, then we've got no chance. The merfolk are probably bringing hoards of themselves. At least a hundred. No crew's ever survived a merfolk battle with the merfolk being more than just twice their numbers. And we're talking about a full-fledged battle here, not just a scandal that we get ourselves in once a week to protect them land men."

"Well, it looks like we'll have to be the first ones," said Evie, determined not to give up her place.

"I agree," Rafael Ghubwick interjected, "at least we should make a run for it. If they catch up, we fight. Think about it. If them merfolk get the medallion, they have a possibility of getting the seven treasures, which is gonna give 'em immortality. And I don't wanna imagine what they're going to do with that power. Even if they don't find the seven treasures, we know they're allied up with the Turrents. The Turrents could trade the merfolk for the medallion, then they'll have two pieces of Godric's Gold, since they already have the compass."

"And if we do run," Evie joined in, "we could search for the map on the way. Sail around Europe, I suppose."

"We start," Eddie pulled out a long scroll from the bookshelf he was standing in front of and rolled it out on the table, "here." He pointed his bejeweled finger at a big island to the northeastern part of Europe in Barents Sea. It was clear that Eddie had agreed with Evie. Many crew members in the back protested, shouting things about throwing the medallion overboard or eating it.

Eddie retrieved and unrolled another map. This map was larger and had millions of markings. It held all the mortal lands in faint marks, and traced in heavier marks were where other crusader clans resided, different territories of the merfolk, all the treasure coves, and other strange land masses. He then pointed to a piece of land that was marked with the Turrents' symbol. "We should start searching here because, after all, this is where the Second Great Battle, the one between us and the Turrents occured. If we're lucky, the map might not have washed away too far. The Turrents' ships should be somewhere around the place. We just need to avoid them."

"We're gonna sail to Wolverine's dock? By then we'll all be freezin' with icicles runnin' up our bones! Not ter mention that us two clans aren't 'xactly on friendly terms." Morris shivered just at the thought of it.

"We'll think about that later. Right now we need to adjust our sails before the wind gets us too far off course. And of course we'll inform the rest of the crew. Evan, get the bell and head off to the helm. We'll get another talk at this tomorrow." They dispersed at their Captain's word.

Evie hated working with the sails and the riggings, but it was her assigned job everyday. Either the lookout, or the masts. It was a complicated job and the ropes were always so tight it took all her might just to make a simple sailor's knot.

Evie followed her crew mate Rafael out onto the docks. She and Rafael were good friends, both being rather young in the crew. Rafael, a skinny boy about the age of sixteen, had a head of stringy, dirty blonde hair that fell halfway down his neck and startling blue eyes, and always had smudges of dirt on his face. He was either working at the masts or discussing things with Eddie, as he was the deputy captain.

Many times he had been mistaken as her brother; the two looked very alike, Evie being a thin figure as well with green-grey eyes the color of a sea storm and hazelnut curls that faded into a dirty blonde at the tips.

She looked upward at the mizzenmast, where the top disappeared into the mist. The mist had also settled around the ship, covering them in a damp silver blanket. Everyone was awake now and were rushing around the deck. Evie took hold of a chain linked to a knob on the mast.

"I reckon the merfolk ain't gonna chase us too far out. They don't even know where the seven treasures are hidden, unless they got the map," Rafael said.

"Well, its worth it to take caution. No harm done," Evie replied.

"They ain't even know where we're at."

"That was exactly my point. They can't track us down, and they have the whole world to search."

Feeling that they had come to a satisfactory conclusion, Rafael started giving orders.

"You take the main sails and I'll take the jib," he shouted over the clanging bronze bell. Four rings; wake up bell. Rubbing her calloused hands together, the knuckles bound with cloth, she pulled on the different ropes until she found the one connected to the foresail. She unknotted the thick cords as stiff as wires and pulled on it. Nothing happened. Evie groaned and walked up to the mast. She then leaned back with all her weight, her feet placed firmly on the beam. To her satisfaction, the sail slowly swung around with the speed of a slug. She checked her compass; they were heading off Northeast, sailing for the tribe of merfolk at the coast of Quebec. A mortal map popped up in her head. That meant they had to turn about one fourth of a full circle, so they would be sailing northwest. She glanced at the telltales strung to the jib boom Rafael was working with. The wind was blowing them in their former path. She slowly eased the sail to a stop when it had turned enough, then tied the rope back onto its knob. Doing a triple crown knot with a cord as thick as her arm was quite challenging, not to mention painful.

She then turned the rest of the sails, and only met a small problem when two of the cords got tangled. But it was easily fixed when she climbed the rope ladder, inched her way up the tall mast and untangled the ropes with only her legs gripping the beam. It was a frightful but thrilling experience, with the world so far down below her and her fellow crusaders seeming as small as ants. When she had finished everything and helped Rafael with the Fore Stay sail, her hands were sore and bleeding. She hastily wiped the blood away on her already bloodied vest.

The sun was up high and shone through the mist, which was slowly dispersing as dawn left. She could see the ocean shimmering around her and feel the wind picking up pace. It was always nice sailing, but she hadn't seen any land for more than two weeks and sorely missed it. Two weeks of wasted journey. It would take about another few weeks to get to Britain. Did they have enough food for that? She hurried down the stairs at the edge of the quarter deck. When she was halfway down the stairs, she gave a yelp when she clomped a hole through the staircase with her foot. She heard the splintered wood hit the floor beneath.

"Daniel?" She called to the Pearl's carpenter while pulling her leg out of the hole, "there seems to be a minor issue with the stairs down here."

She continued her journey down the stairs, this time treading very lightly to avoid punching another hole through the stairs. She passed many dining rooms and council rooms before she stepped foot on the bottom of the ship. Here, she could hear the creaks and moans of the ship more profoundly, and had to keep her hands against the wall to keep from toppling over when it rocked. It was considerably a lot darker at the bottom of the ship; there was a single torch on the wall that Evie took with her to the storage room.

The storage room smelled of moss and damp wood, and both were present. Piles of fishing nets lay to a corner, barrels stacked atop each other and lined the far wall, while in the center of the room, there were baskets of fruits and bags of food, mostly bread. To sail all the way to Britain…that would surely take about a month. If weathers were troubling (that was very likely, it was mid-October and the weather always changed drastically near winter), they would take, at most, two months. If they were to take two months…two meals a day…plus the rum and water…Evie counted the sacks of bread and the sacks of meat. No, it would definitely not be enough. She exited the room and walked down the dark corridor, careful not to set the wood on fire with her torch, and entered another rather louder room. Goats trotted around in small circles, as much as their chains allowed them to. Chickens pecked at the moss on the floor, while a single cow lay with its eyes dull, looking as if it had lost hope on life. She counted the livestock, hoping with all her heart that it would be enough to keep them full. Stopping at the harbor to collect more food would lengthen their journey another week or so. Four goats, five chickens and one cow. Barely enough for three weeks. Evie groaned, wondering why they hadn't taken more food when they left the harbor. The ship performed a violent rock suddenly, causing the bleating sheep to slide across the room with resentment. The chickens and the cow followed suit. With a hack, Evie dug her axe into the wall and held on as the ship kept tilting. If they had just brought a few more goats. Or ten more bags of bread…she pulled her axe off the wall and slipped it into her weapons belt before setting off down the corridor when the ship steadied. Halfway up the stairs, she met Daniel, who was stooped over the hole with a wooden plank in his hands and a few nails held between his teeth.

"Oi," he greeted her as she sidled past. Evie tipped her hat in reply, being circumspect to not stomp another hole that would waste another ten minutes of Daniel's time.

Now, almost everyone of the crew milled around the deck. They all greeted her as she squeezed past them, wrinkling her nose at the smell of sea salt and rum together. She found Eddie at the wheel, his dark and stranded hair swinging around as he hummed a melancholy tune. Evan had been sent off to the crows nest, as she could tell from his broad outline in the sky.

"Not enough food. Water's good, I 'spect, but our lads are sure going to complain about the missing rum for a week. Could've just brought a few more of those chickies. We obviously would survive at this rate, but its better to avoid starvation. Starvation's no good for us if we have to work our arms off all day with the sails. I mean, maybe the bigger lads can hold off with the food for some time, but us young 'uns… but the trip to the Harbour's gonna take us at least a week if the weather's lookin smooth. We've been too busy to get a good wallop at the fish this week, but if we still brandish our nets here and there, it'll be far from enough to keep the crew fed…" Evie leaned on the wheel with one arm as she trailed off. Eddie gave her a sidelong and impartial look through his heavy lidded eyes, then replied, "you could've just said we'd have to make another stop at Greylock's Harbor," and scooted her baggy sleeved arm off of his wheel.

"We'll have to make another stop at Greylock's Harbor." She returned Eddie's impartial look with an impartial smile and left.

Just as she did so, a dagger flew straight at her. Not the least bit surprised (for daggers often flew at you when you were aboard a crusader ship), she caught it right before the tip buried itself in her face and looked for the thrower with curiosity.

"Polish and sharpen it!" Rafael hollered at her from the other side of the deck. "I got myself busy with the nets!" He raised up a fistful of thick coils of rope. Scowling at the fact that she had been given such a boring duty, Evie retrieved a sharp piece of flint from somewhere inside her rags tied around her waist and began sharpening the dagger. It made the satisfying _shhhrrk_ scraping noise that was pleasant to her ears. She was settling down to another typical day aboard the Greylock's Pearl.

Two seagulls flapped overhead and landed on the mizzenmast. They cawed and eyed the glinting silver chains woven into Evie's hair. One of them flapped down and started pecking her head, trying to pull the slim chains free and take it for their own. Annoyed, Evie sliced up with the newly sharpened dagger in a quick and swift motion. A dead seagull thumped onto the floor at her feet, its white wings now stained with spots of scarlet. She was just about to go back to sharpening when realization rapped on her skull. She stared down at the dead seagull, then on the one perched atop the riggings. It cawed loudly and more seagulls started to join it. Seagulls meant land. Land meant people. People meant discovery. Therefore, seagulls meant danger. She had not met a seagull for almost a year now, and was stunned into silence. Then, gathering her rather jumbled wits, she shouted to the crew.

"Oi!" Everyone stopped with their work and turned to her. She raised up the dead seagull in one hand. It took longer for this to register in their brains than in hers. A few moments later, frenzy had broken out on deck. Some were running around looking for maps, others for compasses, and many of the men were working wildly with the sails, trying to steer the ship in the opposite direction. Evie helped along with the foremast. It was most important to turn the ship around and avoid land, and after that they could check their bearings. Evie had been quite sure they were heading the right direction. Could the compass have been wrong? The compass seemed to be working fine—broken compasses were always tossed off board.

"C'mon, we can do better! Heave!" Rafael shouted at the crew below, hanging from the topmost sail on the mast. The Pearl was starting to make a slow U-turn as more seagulls flapped about. Evie pulled harder and faster as the man behind her tried to keep up. With a last rattle of the chains, the riggings were tied and they were sailing safely away from land they could not see. Eddie had lain out three maps and two compasses before him on the floor, and was looking from one to the other, a bemused expression on his face. Rafael, a tiny figure clinging to the fore-royal-mast, was scanning the sea around them.

"See anything?" Evie called up, starting to ascend the rope ladder.

"Can't," came the reply, "forgot me spyglass."

The swaying ladder came to an end, but she was still one sail below Rafael. Rubbing her cloth bound hands together, she hugged the huge mast and inched her way up, like climbing a tree. The scene below sent butterflies into her stomach; the people were once again like ants, crawling around the deck. She balanced precariously on the yard of the top sail and handed her spyglass to Rafael, who had a lot better time standing still compared to Evie, who was wobbling around, trying not to fall. In fact, he appeared completely relaxed as if he were not hundreds of feet above the ground; he leaned casually against the mast, one foot up, and lengthened the spyglass. Irritated at the fact that she could not balance well enough, Evie decided to plop down into a sitting position instead. She blamed it on her leather boots; they had a tiny bit of a heel, and Rafael, on the other hand, was barefoot. The ocean stretched on as far as she could see, except for a small lining of land at the edge of the horizon.

"Yep, that's land alright," said Rafael, squinting at the bright sun. "And it ain't look like any land we've seen b'fore." He tossed the spyglass back, his features dawning a puzzled expression. "There ain't supposed to be land here."

"Well then again, we haven't been to this part of the ocean for centuries now, so the land forms must have changed. So if there is any new land popping up, it wouldn't show on the old maps Eddie likes to look at. Speaking of which, I'll grab him a new one," Evie said, half talking to herself. Before she made her way down, she took off her boots and laid them across her lap. She took out one of her larger daggers, placed the tip at where the heel of the boot grew out, and began to saw. Within a minute, she had chiseled away her boot heels so that the entire bottom of her boots were completely flat. Tucking her dagger away, she eased her way up to a standing position. It was much easier to balance on the wooden beam this time, as her feet were getting a better grip. She slid down the mast until she reached the rope ladder, and clambered down the rest of the way. As Evie leaped off of the ladder when there were only a few feet of distance left, Eddie stood up, calling for attention.

"I've just taken a look at some of them newer maps. So this land we've run into is apparently the eastern border of the island St. Pierre and Miquelon. Not on these old maps, I'll have to draw it out later. But the good news is that this is the only land we'll come across in out entire journey, besides the Harbour, so we can rest there for a night." Eddie had to shout his last few words as cheers arose from the crowd before he had even finished his sentence. "Not done, not done!" He called, but the crew was still rejoicing and his words were lost in the laughter and shouts. Evie thumped the base of her axe against the mast she was leaning on, and shouted "quiet down or you'll be tossed off the deck!" At this, the shouts became quiet murmurs.

"If we do make a stop, then like always, we'll have to remember to keep caution, act along with the crowd, all that jazz, savvy?" Eddie continued. He was returned with solemn nods amongst the sailors. "Turn the sails back west!" At Eddie's word, everyone dispersed to their duties jubilantly, and Evie once again found herself at the foremast with Fletcher Stunnings and Cress Morgenstern, both of who were about her age.

"Someone head up to the main top and give us some orders to the docks and a call when we're nearing land! Be careful not to fall, we ain't got nowhere to store dead bodies!" Eddie called from the helm. Evie raced to the main mast, seizing the chance of keeping watch up high. Unfortunately, Rafael and a burly man named Gerwin Stockings also had that in mind. The three got to the main mast at the same time, all stopping short when they saw each other.

"Ruddy seashells, I'll step off this time," Gerwin ran a hand through his greasy hair. "One o' you get up there b'fore we're too close to land."

"Oh, Gerwin, don't be such a gentleman," Evie smiled, "whoever gets to the top first gets the position!" At once, Evie raced around to the rope ladder, soon followed by a laughing Rafael. She nimbly made her way up to the crow's nest, being careful to tread on her friend's fingers when she could. Evie flipped into the crow's nest, then began her tree-climbing ascent to the main top gallant yard. Unfortunately, Rafael had gained enough on her to grab onto her ankle and pull her down, which he did do. She yelped as she slid down the mast back to the crow's nest. Rafael glanced down at her from his position a few feet above, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Thinking quickly, Evie untangled a grappling hook from her weapons belt, the long rope trailing behind. She took aim and threw it with all her might. The hook lodged itself with a _chink_ in the corner of the mast and the yard. Tugging at the rope to ensure it was secure, she began her climb. Climbing up a single rope was difficult, but still easier than climbing up a thick wooden mast. As Rafael slowly inched his way up, Evie was swinging madly in circles, suspended in mid-air, but with every grasp and pull, she was covering twice the distance Rafael had. Soon, Evie pushed her way onto the yard with Rafael right below her.

"I win," she grinned down at him, pleased to see that his forehead was dotted with perspiration and his chest was heaving with each breath. Glaring up at her ruefully, Rafael slowly slid back down like a koala.

Evie looked out to the horizon, where the green outline of land was already visible. The sea, a deep cadet blue, sparkled under the sun, a shimmering sheet of joy. The crispy autumn air cut through her hair and swept around her face, cajoling her to jump right off the yard and sail along in the breeze. The wind carried the scent of sea salt, something that Evie had been tasting for all her life. Endless blue, all around her, except for a tiny lining of land in the distance. The sea a cape of velvet blue silk, the sky a canvas of soft blue watercolor, not a single wisp of a cloud in sight. She sighed with bittersweet content, her shoulders heavy with the knowledge that she was bound to duty to protect mankind from merfolk for the rest of her life, living in secrecy, forever sailing the ocean. But the ocean was her home; the waves lapping at the ship was her lullaby, the crashing of a sea storm was her energy, the cry of a seagull was her song. Her hands belonged grasping the thick ropes of the sails, her feet ran with the rhythm of the hull, her blood the blood of thousands of explorers and sailers in ancestry. This was home.

As the land closed in, she could make out steam ships and trading ships docked in, with small fishing boats filling the cracks. A small length of empty dock ran down to their right.

"Turn to starboard!" She called down to the helm, occupied by a figure she couldn't make out. The figure gave her a thumbs up that she almost missed and went back to steering. Evie clambered down past the crow's nest to the main top yard, and felt the thrill of heights loosen its grasp on her.

"Heads up, Ev!" Someone called from below. She ducked her head just as the main top gallant sail swung over, the yard missing her by an inch. The wind carried from the giant sail almost blew her off the mast as it passed by. After the sail settled down, Evie grabbed the rope from the crow's nest and pushed off the yard. She swung forward and grabbed onto the thickest rope rigging, which Morris was adjusting. Taking a deep breath, Evie swung the rest of her body onto the rope and slid down with lightning speed. Her fingers were burning from the friction with the rope, but she clung on. Just before she reached the end of the rope, Evie grasped the rope tightly, pulling herself to a sharp stop right above Morris's head.

"Watch it, girl," Morris growled in her rough voice, scowling up at the bottom of Evie's boots. Evie gave her a playful tap on the forehead and leapt off of the rope. Almost everyone was below decks in the crew quarters getting changed. She headed to the heavy chest placed in a corner at quarter deck, hidden by stacks of barrels. The lid had already been lifted open and it was ransacked through. Evie dug into a chest, trying to find clothes her size. She was slim and a bit short for her age, due to malnutrition. Before, when she had just become old enough to sail with the crew, the bigger lads would bully the food off her plate and snacks out of her pockets. They weren't keen on having an amateur with them, especially one who's lack of strength and resolve slowed them down, especially when she was a _girl._ By time Evie had earned their grudging respect and acceptance, and had finally proven herself worthy as a crusader. That was years ago, but the memories of the undeserved bruises brought on after hearty laughter during nights at the Cliffwatch Tavern still gave her nightmares sometimes. She was not a full blooded crusader, after all. But that was a story for another time.

She rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a rumpled plaid dress with long sleeves. Surprisingly, it didn't inhabit a single stain, a rare miracle when on a ship of sweaty men who were drunk half the time.

She heard a bang and Evan emerged from the trapdoor, dressed in a wrinkled suit that barely retained from ripping down the center of his thick chest. His dress pants were too short, stopping halfway down the ankle, revealing messily pulled up socks. Evan's red hair looked like a birds' nest planted atop his head. It was the most comical sight ever, seeing someone as burly and grubby as Evan dressed in formal clothing. She snickered as she passed him and received a sharp jab in the back with his short-sword in response.

In her room, she struggled into the dress as quickly as possible. Although the dress appeared plain— simple stitching, puffed up sleeves, satin ends—the inside was quite the contrary. The fabric felt like it had grown claws, scratching her back with every movement, the collar tickling her neck, the sleeves choking her arms. Evie was born into a petite frame, but despite her size, the dress still clung to her like a sheet of wax paper. She felt slimmer than ever, with her slight curves uncomfortably pronounced. But there was a bigger issue now; how was she going to hid her weapons? She found that she could slide her cutlass up her arm, with the butt tucked into the puff of her sleeve. The thin blade could be concealed as long as she didn't bend her arm too much. She slid a few daggers under her dress, tucked into her waist ribbon. As for her axe…unless she slid them into her boots and convinced people she had a diabetes issue with her left leg, she could carry. Which is exactly what she did. Along with a few sharp nails, in case she needed to stab someone without being noticed by the flash of silver or the swish of a blade.

She loosened the knots in her hair and fanned it out, her thick strands covering the chains woven through. The bloody cloth on her hands were hidden by the long gloves that went with the dress. She grumbled at her reflection in the window; the girl that stared back at her was not Evie; she felt humiliated, as if she were put in a silly costume and asked to perform on stage for a circus. She shook herself as if trying to shake off the feeling that was plastered onto her like glue.

Evie hurried down the upper berth into the lower berth, where the gun deck was. It was a wide space, almost as large as an arena, with ropes tangling along the floor, cannon holes lining the wall neatly, barrels of gunpowder stacked up, and various items scattered over the deck. She found a rusted faucet on the port side of the wall with basins stacked underneath. Evie twisted the faucet tap, and yellowish green water spluttered out, along with some seaweed. She cupped her hands under the tap, catching the water, and splashed it on her face. The freezing cold seawater nipped at her skin and ran down her neck. She rubbed off some dirt and grub, trying her best to appear presentable.

Most of the crew was made up of boys and men, ages ranging from seventeen to forty, with the exception of Rafael. They had it the easiest; blending in with the crowd in a hominum city required nothing much. They could blend in as carpenters, school professors, vendors, even maybe doctors, though the profession was rare. When it came to hominum women—they were impeccable, immaculate, every action and every word perfectly ordered and thought out, their clothing refined to look all the same. Outrageous, it was.

With these thoughts running through her mind, Evie hadn't noticed that she'd ended up in front of the entrance to the common room.

Whenever she was free, whenever she felt lonely or discouraged or just tired from a day of hard work, her feet automatically led her to the place, answering the beckons of merry laughter and loud voices from inside. She smiled inwardly and sauntered in.

As soon as she did, she was greeted by a heavy arm thrown around her shoulder. It was Augustus Clitherow, a lithe and tall seventeen year old, who at the moment, curiously, smelled strongly of jasmine. He had broken free from the gang of younger seventeen and eighteen year old boys, who were currently seated at their usual spot by the worn out sacks (used as substitutions for chairs) at the starboard corner of the room.

"Like it?" He grinned stupidly.

"Like what?" Evie stood back, straining to notice something different about him, or something he had changed. His hair was still cropped and copper colored. His eyebrows weren't missing. His hands were still slightly large compared to his arms. Nothing was different except for the outfit he had changed into, which consisted of breeches, a worn out shirt, a coat, and a cravat. It was what he usually donned when they set foot on hominum land.

Auggie threw his arm off her shoulder and began fanning vigorously towards her. "Smell anything?"

 _The jasmine…_ Evie thought. Her face split into a smile as Marthar Lowthe, good looking as ever, emerging too from the right corner, tossed her a small perfume bottle. It had delicate markings and was a tortoiseshell color.

"That devil got stuck in the gutter, I hadda climb overboard and yank it out."

Evie noticed how Mart's hazelnut-honey locks were dripping wet with seawater and smelling strongly of rotten seaweed. She aimed the nozzle at him and sprayed it, causing him to scowl at the strong fumes. Grinning, she turned back to Auggie, and said, "you smell nice," before tossing the perfume bottle back to him. Auggie threw his arm around her again before they went to join the boys at their corner.

They were in the middle of a wrestling contest on a table made of barrels. Rafael had one hand occupied by Matthias Alderbourne and the other by Christian Frother. Surprisingly, Rafael had cleaned the dirt off his face and his hair looked like it had been washed. Matt was almost winning, his hands of Rafael's and Christian's were dangerously close to meeting the barrel.

With a slam, both of Christian's hands were pinned down on the barrel, and with another louder slam, Rafael lost to Matt.

"Looking kinda shabby there, Frothy," Evie smirked, plopping herself down beside Christian.

"Oh yeah?" Frother turned to face her. "I'd like to see you gimme a go."

Evie propped her arm up on the barrel, a gesture that accepted his challenge. Christian's grip was strong, almost squeezing her hand a bit too tightly, but she knew she was stronger than him. Frother was mostly helping Daniel fixing the bits and bobs of the ship, or down organizing the storage. Evie worked with the masts everyday, pulling the thick cords, climbing the masts, the work giving her coordinated muscles and physical strength.

"If you lose, you have to clean the galley for a fortnight," Evie said.

"If _you_ lose, drinks are on you when we get to land.

"But that's against the code! We're not allowed to consume any hominum food or liquid."

"Then I guess you'll have to win." Christian's brown eyes smiled.

"Three," said Evie.

"Two," Christian continued.

"One."

Evie gritted her teeth as she received Christian's force, and pushed back with all her might. Her muscles worked furiously, causing her heart rate to increase. She felt the blood pump from her face to her arm, which was almost purple from her opponent's tenacious grip. Evie found herself getting tired, then exhausted, her arm screaming in protest. She was relieved when she looked up and saw that Christian's face was a bright red, and his arm was shaking. She was slowly overpowering him, his arm inching down bit by bit, until, to her glee, it was almost touching the barrel.

Jeremy laughed from behind. "C'mon Froth, ya can't lose to a girl, can ya now?" Frother's jaw tightened. Jerry winced as he received a heavy-toed kick from Evie.

Mart and Matt sat on either side of Christian, jokingly whisper chanting his name. Auggie was bent down beside Evie, tossing the perfume bottle from one hand to the other.

She had just about won, pressing Christian's hand down to the barrel, when everything happened at once.

Christian, with a grunt, put in probably what was left of his strength, which was quite a lot, causing Evie's hand to waver. Auggie tossed his perfume bottle probably a bit too high, and it landed with an echoing clunk on the empty barrel, spitting perfume into Evie's eyes. And appearing from somewhere in the room, Gerwin walked past them just at that moment and slipped, his foot knocking into the "chair" which Evie was seated. Off balance and blinded, she was completely caught off guard, and Frother seized that moment to bang her hand back against the barrel.

"I win!" Christian announced cheerily. Mart gave Evie a soothing pat on the back. "I feel like the universe has something against you."

"That was utterly the most unfair win ever, but…" Evie grunted and wiped perfume from her stinging eyes, "those conditions were never stated in our terms, so I guess you win."

"I gotta pay my respects to that perfume bottle," Christian said, "and you too, Gerwin." He gave Gerwin a firm shake of the hand, leaving Gerwin bruised and bemused. "If I actually had to clean the galley, I would've—"

But Evie never found out what Frother would've done because at that moment, Evan ducked through the entrance and said, "we're docking, everyone on deck."

As a crusader, Evie had been to more places than double of what the average hominum travels in their lifetime. She had been to almost every country lining the coast, hominum or epithymia. Mossflower, the island far west, was an exception, as it was the most ancient land of all time, and held dizzying mysteries of fantasies and magic that wraps itself around your ankle like a vine and pulls you down into its enchantment.

Hominum lands she had been to, from Cuba to Singapore to Madagascar. Evie recalled her memories of the Madagascar merfolk, every bit of their skin painted with vivid colors and alluring patterns. They wore cougar teeth around their necks and many carried short spears with heads made of aragonite. She recalled the sharp pain she experienced when a young merman pierced the aragonite into her skin, the jagged edges burrowing deep into her torso and lodging onto her hipbone. Despite the spear stuck into her stomach, she kept fighting, swinging her blade furiously but not too high, for fear that movements too vigorous would open her wound more. After, Bethia Froselour, an experienced healer, had laid Evie down and bandaged her up. The memory still brought a tingling to her side.

After Madagascar, they sailed to Oman, the Tiwi Islands in the Timor sea, then to Daru, and then forty days across the Pacific ocean plus another twenty days across the Atlantic back to Greylock Harbor. Evie had been everywhere. But she had never been to St. Pierre and Miquelon. The busy harbor smelled of smoke and fish and damp wood, with more fishing boats along the dock than Evie could count. Deckhand men were unloading cargo from massive trading ships and loading them onto polished carts. Merchant seamen and sailors sauntered along the deck, smoking pipes and yelling about politics. There were clusters of houses and small buildings behind the docks, which ended at the foot of a rising grassy slope with rocks jutting out. There were a few dirt paths carved through the giant hill, on which some carts and carriages were being pulled up by overworked horses.

The crusaders had all gathered on deck near the docks. Greylock's Pearl had been anchored already, and Eddie was standing at the edge of the docks, on the rim of the Pearl, the other on the wooden boards of St. Pierre. He was in a neat sailor uniform, discussing something with a man in a fancy coat carrying a quill and some parchment. After a few abrupt nods, the man scribbled something down on the parchment and Eddie handed him a few coins. He beckoned forward, allowing Eddie to pass.

One by one they stepped off the Pearl. When the female members of the crew—Avery, Morris, Cress, Rhoda Goshawk, and Evie—stepped off the ship, the man gave them curious looks. Women were not usually found in public, let alone stepping off a great big Fluyt ship. Rafael quickly hooked his arm around Evie's and said to the man, "our fiancés and wives. We traveled here from afar, couldn't leave them behind." No emotion showed on his face and no heat colored his cheeks; his lie was so palpable that Evie almost believed him. The man's skepticism faded at these words.

The crew walked some distance away from the busy harbor to the back of a factory, where the street was empty besides a broken typewriter thrown aside right below a window.

"Alrighty gang," Eddie turned to them, "you can disperse now, but we meet back here tomorrow sundown by the Pearl. Ladies, try to stay inside. Don't get mugged. Don't get us caught. Don't waste money. Okay? Shoo." With a flick of his hand, everyone went their separate ways. Evan and a gaggle of men headed down the street; Berthern turned the corner with some other men and Rhoda; Morris and Bethia followed Jamiah and the rest of the men down the opposite direction. Evie, Rafael, Mart, Matt, Jerry, Christian, Auggie, and Avery decidedly headed uphill along the dirt trail, careful not to get run over by passing carriages and carts.

After huffing and puffing and panting for almost an hour, they had climbed to the top of the hill. Evie stood atop a boulder, surveying the area on the other side of the hill. It was a mesh of brown and grey and people bobbing along roads. The place was packed with buildings and houses—Evie recognized a market square, a tavern, and a cluster of stores. One street was lined full with barns. Thin roads ran between the various buildings with people traveling them. The city monopoly rose up another subtle hill that stretched out towards the far west. A line of buildings edged the horizon, and Evie couldn't see past that.

Auggie muttered something unprintable under his breath as his gaze swept over the city.

"Waddaya say we head over to the tavern?" Avery suggested. Rafael nodded and started his descent, a small smile playing on his lips. Evie knew Rafael loved the city—clip clop of hooves on the road, the hum of conversation, the lights that lit up when the sun bid farewell to the sky, the smell of food floating out from windows—Rafael loved everything about it.

Evie was fine with going anywhere, as long as there was adventure and excitement. And as she looked over the big city, even though they were only staying for one night, it felt like a metropolis of adventure.


End file.
